


Papillon Paon: L'Histoire Secrète

by MademoiselleSarcasme



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, i will make you care about this ship, story in vignettes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-07-16 07:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16081127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MademoiselleSarcasme/pseuds/MademoiselleSarcasme
Summary: The origin story of Gabriel and Emilie, told in a series of somewhat-disjointed flashbacks. We find out what Gabriel was like before he went bad -- and very likely why he went bad in the way he did.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prologue. Each vignette will be one chapter, so each chapter will vary wildly in length as I tell the story the way it feels it ought to be told.

A blank sheet of paper lay on the large table in front of Gabriel Agreste, taunting him with its wide empty surface, daring him to make so much as a tiny mark. Its slightly less blank companions lay spread out beyond it, covered in sketchy scrawls, but nothing coherent. Nothing wearable. Nothing really unique; not yet. He stepped back from his working space, casting a critical eye over the pieces he had previously attempted. They were all the same silhouette, with varying degrees of ornament. It was familiar, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on how; the shape felt comforting, but he couldn’t remember exactly why. Two sharp taps to the black screen on his wrist brought up the time: it was a bit early for lunch, but close enough. Perhaps food and a change of scenery would help solve this design block.

“Nathalie! I’d like to take lunch early today!” he barked into the intercom.

“Yes, Monsieur Agreste,” she replied. “It will be ready for you in the dining room.”

Gabriel made his way to the dining room, barely noticing the hallway as he passed through it, deep in the annals of his memory. That silhouette … where had it come from? It was classic, yes, but … just a touch peculiar. Particular. Specific.

“Father!”

Adrien’s voice -- his son’s voice -- startled him from his reverie. Gabriel found himself face-to-face with the living, breathing reminder of his beloved Emilie, nearly one full year missing -- and the silhouette’s provenance clicked.

“Adrien! Are you back for lunch?”

“I’m actually just leaving, Father. I am going back to school. If you were going to take an early lunch today, why didn’t you take it to eat with me?”

“It is unintentionally early. I’m working on the new couture line and found myself going in circles.”

“Aaah. Best of work to you, then, Father.” Adrian excused himself politely, bookbag in hand, off to school. Gabriel stood there a moment, looking after his son as he departed, remembering the reason he typically avoided taking lunch with Adrien. The grief of Emilie’s disappearance was still strong, poignant, and overwhelming; Adrien couldn’t help being just like her, but the resemblance still cut deep into his father’s wounded heart.

Gabriel Agreste walked past the place setting on the table, set specifically for him, food already on the plate. He suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore. The same single-minded focus which drove his profound avoidance of all things Emilie now did the reverse, propelling his body in the direction of the shelf where the only thing that could be considered a remembrance of her rested: a small photo of her, nestled behind an engraved map of Tibet, and the peacock Miraculous. He reached out to touch the tiny trinket, his opposite hand going to the butterfly clasped beneath his own cravat. _Emilie . . ._

The memories washed over him in waves, and he was at their mercy.


	2. The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel Agreste is flashing back over the life he's shared with Emilie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is a series of flashbacks, they'll be all over the board, timewise. I hope you're ready for FEELINGS.

She was wearing that dress. The one he had designed for her on a whim, as a private joke between the two of them, then had a different model walk in it for the actual show -- but she knew. And he knew. It was her dress. He had never actually intended her to wear it for the occasion, though, since she had her own aesthetic opinions, but here they were: Emilie, draped in the lace he had designed, in the dress he helped construct, for one of his early-career bridal lines. Her runway: the short aisle of a tiny monastery church in the Alps. Her captive audience: a handful of monks, who were more captivated by their own hymns than her elegance. That served Gabriel just fine. The only photography of this event would be his memory, and maybe a Polaroid, if they could convince one of the monks to take it for them. That shouldn't prove too difficult.

“Do you, Gabriel, take Emilie to be your wife, for better or for worse, through good times and through bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?”

The traditional response clung to Gabriel’s tongue as his lips formed the words but his voice refused to cooperate. A weak, reverent, “I do,” eventually escaped the prison of his nerves, ringing gently in the silent stillness of the chapel.

“Do you, Emilie, take Gabriel to be your husband, for better or for worse, through good times and through bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Her words were lovelier to Gabriel than the sweetest-smelling bouquet, and the joy swelled in his chest until it hurt. His vision blurred substantially, until the monk presiding nudged him and gestured to the object in his hand: the peacock Miraculous. 

“With this brooch, I thee wed. Take it, as a sign of our union.” Hands trembling slightly, he pinned it to her dress, somewhere in the vicinity of her left collarbone, taking care not to snag the lace. He found himself doing most of it by touch, as the world was still quite wobbly and fuzzy in his eyes.

“With this brooch, I thee wed. Take it, as a sign of our union.” Emilie, holding the butterfly Miraculous in her slender fingers, stepped just a bit nearer to pin it to Gabriel’s left lapel. He took the opportunity to breathe in the nearness of her once more, and to experience it anew in light of the vows just exchanged.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” recited the monk-priest, smiling widely at them both. “Congratulations.”


End file.
